


Just Like That

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During an apocalypse, you take whatever company you can find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Mavin fic I’ve ever written but I just really wanted to contribute in some way haha. Writing Gavin is especially hard, but hopefully I pulled it off alright for the first chapter. 
> 
> I’m not sure how long this’ll be. Maybe a few chapters, maybe a longer fic. I dunno yet, we’ll see what happens.

The trigger was pulled and the monster collapsed to the ground, writhing and curling up around itself for a moment before it stopped moving completely. Michael sighed and kicked it out of his way as he continued walking down the main street of the town he’d taken up residence.

He hadn’t seen another person for so long it was ridiculous. He wasn’t even sure how long it had been since he’d been separated from his family. He didn’t even know if they were alive. He doubted it. They were probably zombies by now, trapped in their own heads but not in control of their bodies. Typical.

He smashed the window into a family restaurant; he slightly surprised raiders hadn’t gotten to it yet. After a week of the outbreak the government gathered all the citizens they could and moved them somewhere else. Michael wasn’t sure where. He was one of the many to be left behind. Anyway, people went insane and stole and destroyed everything they could. Gangs and colonies surfaced, wars amongst them making the already treacherous world even more dangerous.

Looking through the fridge he found a large cheese wheel. It wasn’t in too bad condition. A little moldy on some of the edges but otherwise looked good enough to eat.

His stomach growled and he dropped the cheese onto the counter, taking his hunting knife and cutting off a piece for him to eat. It was really, really good. It was probably made even better because he’d been living off of canned beans and stale bread for two weeks now. Cold, somewhat fresh cheese was a blessing.

A crash sounded from the front of the restaurant and he gripped his shotgun tightly, waiting for another zombie to charge him. Instead, he nearly fell down when he heard a distinctly human, “Hello-o-o?”

He blinked, and his heart started pumping. Another person could mean a companion or a gang in town. Ducking down behind the island, he held his breath when the door to the kitchen swung open and footsteps could be heard. Curling his head up to his chest he waited while the footsteps stopped. His hand reached out to grip his knife but he realized he left it sunk in the cheese up on the counter.

Damn it.

“Cheese!” the person exclaimed, and they sounded so excited about it too.

Michael rolled his eyes, but then realized that this person would be taking his find with him. There was a shuffling noise and then the person was chomping away at his food. He growled and before he could think about what he was doing he stood up and aimed the barrel of his gun right between the man’s eyes.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, sausage…” he said and ducked his head so it was beneath the gun. “Hello, there.” He leaned his elbows on the counter, his head in his hands. And he was smiling.

There was cheese around their mouth, crumbs in the thin beard he wore on his chin, and his eyes were sparkling. Michael dropped his weapon to his side and huffed, “Obviously you’re not as big a threat as I thought you were.”

“Hey!”

Michael glared at him. “Don’t touch my cheese.”

The man grinned. “We could share!”

Michael took a moment to really study the man. He was taller than he was, but had a lanky, slender frame that looked like it could be blown away from the slightest gust of wind. His hair was a mess, though Michael couldn’t say anything better about his since he hadn’t taken the time to really brush it for weeks now. His voice was accented—English?—and there was this goofy lilt in his words like he wasn’t living in the zombie apocalypse. He wasn’t ugly, in fact he was quite attractive, but there was something about his oblivious, carefree gaze that irked him.

“Hell no. Get away from me.”

The man pouted, but bounced back up immediately. “My name’s Gavin. What’s yours?”

Michael took the wheel of cheese and stuffed it into his bag, and looked for his knife, groaning when he found it in Gavin’s grasp. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“None-a,” he said, and Gavin’s eyebrows drew together as he thought about it. “As in, None-a Your Business.”

Gavin’s bottom lip jutted out and he crossed his arms against his chest. “That was stupid.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “So are you. Now if you’ll excuse you, some zombies have a reservation with the blade of my knife.” He held out his hand for the blade Gavin held and the man shook his head.

“Not until I know your name, they don’t.”

Michael’s scowl deepened. He really, really wanted to murder this guy. “I swear to God I’ll fucking shoot your head off if you don’t back off.”

Gavin shrugged. “Oh well.”

Michael observed him shortly, trying to size him up and tell if he was going to attack him. Then, he began gawking and said, “You don’t even have any weapons on you? How the fuck did you get here?”

Gavin blinked rapidly, dumbly, then his mouth quirked upwards into a lopsided grin. “Of course I have weapons, you ninny!”

Michael lifted his gun again and pressed the barrel to his jugular. “Drop them.”

Gavin’s eyes widened just slightly, but he reached behind him and pulled out a revolver from a holster, then down the back of his left thigh for a hunting knife strapped to it. He set them carefully on the counter along with Michael’s knife. He held up his hands, backing away from the gun.

“That it?”

Gavin nodded. “All I have on me. The rest’s in the car.”

Michael stared down at the gun, then at the knife. “You know how to use those?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

Michael almost smiled, but looked back up at Gavin and sighed. “I’m Michael.”

And just like that, Michael had a companion again. And just like that, he immediately regretted even revealing himself in the first place.


	2. Getting Rid of a Nuisance-Or Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I have a general idea on what’s going to happen here, but the plot’s just kind of in the open. If you want something to happen in this thing, just go ahead and ask. 
> 
> I’m not too sure if i want to incorporate the other Hunters into this somehow, or just make it the two of them. Feedback on that would be super.

Is he still following me? Michael wondered, looking over his shoulder to find out that yes, this freak was still trailing after him, weaponless and trusting, like some kind of lost puppy. He growled back at him, but he was too far away to hear.

A gust of wind brushed over them and Michael wrapped his hoodie tighter around him. Gavin wasn’t wearing a jacket or anything other than some cheesy red t-shirt that read ‘Touch My Awesome Button’ with an arrow pointing down to his groin. Michael could see him shivering even from over where he stood, growing closer to the hotel he’d taken residence in.

“Hey, asshole! Hurry up!”

Gavin’s head shot up and he was smiling again. Michael gritted his teeth, stopping and waiting for him to catch up. He still didn’t trust the man, but it would do him no good to have the only human contact he’d had for the longest time freeze to death. Slipping off his sweater, he handed it to him.

Gavin looked at it like he’d never been handed something before, and slowly his fingers twitched towards it, curling around the hood. “A-are you sure? I-it’s your o-only one, right?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Your teeth are chattering, idiot. Besides, we’re a block away from where I’m staying the night. Tomorrow, I’m moving on to the next town.” He rolled his shoulders. He could really use a hot bath, but the best he could find was cold showers. As long as he was clean and wasn’t as easily detected by the zombies he was fine, he supposed.

“W-what about me?” Gavin said, crushing his teeth together to stop them from clicking even more.

Michael paused, his nose wrinkled. “You can do whatever the hell you want. I’ll give you your shit back tomorrow and we’ll never see each other again.”

Gavin frowned. “I don’t like that idea very much.”

“Well, too bad, dumbass. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Michael.” He twitched. The way he said his name was so stupid. He wanted to throttle him, but he promised himself he wouldn’t. “Please. I have a car. I know how to hotwire more. Please. I’m not dead weight.”

Michael’s shoulders sank. “I-I don’t think you’re dead weight, okay? I just—I don’t want to be around you right now.” Damn, now his teeth were chattering from the cold.

A hand was on his shoulder. “You don’t want to be alone again, do you? I don’t either. Come on. We can even come up with a team name!”

Michael turned around again, but was soon knocked over by Gavin’s weight, which was surprisingly hard. His head met the sidewalk (“Good day, kind sir.”) and his shoulder took most of his force, but when he scrambled to get up, noticing that his sight was blurry because his glasses had been knocked off somewhere, Gavin was still on the ground, wrestling with something else.

A zombie, Michael concluded.

Gavin was twisted at an odd angle, eyes wild as he muffled the zombie’s face with the hoodie. The hood was torn and Michael realized if he hadn’t been wearing it, he would’ve been bitten. The fabric was torn and the zombie landed on top of Gavin, crooked fingers gripping his shoulders and pinning him down as its mouth descended to meet Gavin’s face.

Before it could even breathe on him, Michael whipped out Gavin’s revolver, thankful the idiot had the safety off, and shot it in the back. It squealed, rolling over and writhing in a pool of its own blood. Michael gripped his favourite weapon, the hunting blade he’d nearly had stolen from him, and plunged it down into the back of the creature’s skull with little resistance.

The zombie stopped moving and Michael let out a long breath.

“That”—Gavin choked out from behind him and Michael expected him to have pissed himself by now—“was top!”

“What are you—” He made to spin around on his heel and look at Gavin’s expression, for he couldn’t possibly be as cheerful as he sounded. To his surprise, the taller man definitely was. Perhaps even happier. He was positively beaming up at him. Michael blinked, wondering if it was a trick of his eyes—his glasses were lying somewhere around here—but no. Gavin was cheerfully basking in the aftermath, his shirt splattered with blood and hands holding his torso up.

“That was amazing! You just shot the boff right off me!” He scrambled up and before Michael had any say in the matter, he was being hugged.

The line in his brow deepened, but he was still slightly grateful the man wasn’t dead. Who knew how long it would be until he met another person? It could be never for all he knew. For now at least, he wanted Gavin to stick around, and he wanted Gavin to be safe.

“Okay,” he said.

“What?” The word came out more like “wot” but Michael ignored it, even though it grated his nerves even further.

“We’ll take your car and get the fuck out of here tomorrow at dawn. No promises I’m sticking around though. I just don’t want to walk there or anything with all these zombies running around.”

Michael didn’t think the man could smile any brighter.


	3. Alone

Night came fast, and Michael was glad to be inside the hotel again. It was pretty big place, once it would have been fancy and elaborate, but it was only desolate and dusty now. The ceilings were high, and in the main lobby hung a crystal chandelier, the gold and minerals still glittering from the moonlight that crept in through the old glass doors.

The carpets stretched up towards a staircase, and down the main hallway there was a pool, gym and the main kitchens. Behind the desk were scattered paper and pens, contacts and memos littering the counter and floors. They were lost memories written in the printing of someone either far, far away or eternally dead.

Michael glanced over at Gavin, who was in awe of the place. His mouth was agape, his eyes glittering like jewels. They looked almost green from the distance. Maybe they were green, but Michael didn’t notice. He shrugged.

“You should find a room that has the water still turned on. There are a couple around still. They didn’t really take much time to turn the plumbing off when they left.”

“We won’t be sleeping in the same room?”

Michael gripped the strap of his bag harder. “I don’t trust you enough to do that yet.”

“Oh.” The word was short and distant and disappointed.

“I’ll go heat up the kitchen. It’s warmer in there because of the oven ‘n’ stuff…” He continued walking while Gavin stood there gawking at him, glancing quickly upstairs.

“Oh. Alright then. I’ll go find my room.”

—

Gavin wasn’t very good at strategy. He was more of a quick thinking sort of guy. Whenever he tried to plan something out it was difficult and/or dangerous. He knew, however, that with these circumstances, he couldn’t improvise. That’s what happened to Dan and—he sucked in his shuddering breath to stop that train of thought. Better to leave it be than deal with it at a time like this. A time where someone was actually around to see his mental breakdown.

So, he had to think about where the safest place for him to sleep was. Thinking it over, it probably wasn’t a smart plan to be walking around an abandoned hotel all alone during the bloody zombie apocalypse. He hadn’t really a choice in the matter, anyway. Michael seemed to be in charge, and Gavin was fine with that. He didn’t think his mind could really comprehend what was going on half the time, especially in the state he was in. Plus, the bloke had already saved his life within an hour of knowing each other. He felt safer with him around, and if that meant he didn’t get to call the shots, he was fine with it.

But where to sleep?

He didn’t want to sleep on the bottom few floors, that was for sure. It was higher chance a zombie could be lurking around down there, and if people were in the town, they’d be on the first floors as well. Unless they had the same idea as him. He shrugged that idea off.

Top floor it was.

He walked up the staircase, since the lift was out of order. There were ten stories, which was a lot for him to walk up after sleeping in the back of his stolen car for months, and only ever leaving to take a whizz and get more food. He hadn’t even come across a zombie until today for nearly two weeks. Overall, he was out of shape.

Gavin finally came to the tenth story, and slowly opened the door, the heavy metal screeching and groaning from rust. It slammed shut behind him, a hollow, empty sound, and he continued walking while his heart throbbed in his throat. At the end of the hall was a bright window, and on the other end a curve to go down another corridor, which was probably where the lift was.

He was almost hyperaware of how light he felt without his weapons on him.

His breathing and echoing footsteps were the only sounds as he walked down in near pitch black, his fingers vibrating and his feet going numb. He was terrified something would happen to him. That he’d be bitten. That he’d attack his new friend—no, ally, he reminded himself. He was just an ally.

He didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially not when he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He knew all about how pitiful it was to be trapped in your own skin, but not in your right mind.

“Ga… vin…” he heard, but when he turned around to see the cause of the whisper, nothing was there. He let out an uneven breath. His mind was playing tricks on him again, forcing him to remember.

As he turned the corner, a faint light was seen from the very end of the corridor. It wasn’t a window, and as Gavin drew closer he realized it was… a torch?

The thing was flickering, buzzing on and off. Someone left this here, not too long ago, for the batteries to not have run out already. He flicked the switch and was once again bathed in darkness. The door next to him was open, however, the light from the hotel room just a flick of the curtains away.

Swallowing hard, he entered the room.

—

To say Michael didn’t think of ditching his new companion would be complete bullshit. As he turned the stove on—Jesus Christ, how is the gas still on?—he thought about leaving without him so many times. He didn’t want to have to lug around more dead weight. It wasn’t that he thought Gavin was useless—yeah, okay, he was pretty useless. Unless that whole hotwiring thing was true, which Michael sincerely doubted.

He ended up waiting for him in the kitchen, the wide space still a bit chilly, but in front of the ovens the heat licked up his body, making his body feel warm.

He knew for a fact the storage rooms were barren. He’d eaten the last of it, and before that it’d been picked off by raiders and rats, leaving only some stale bread, canned peaches and mushy grapes (raisins, really) hidden in the back. The fridge only had spoiled, putrid milk and some wrinkled apples that were utterly indigestible. That was one of the reasons he set out today, to scout for more food.

He’d hunted before, of course. His shotgun had been his from a couple years back; it was a bit worn from use, the metal of the barrel chipped from where he slammed it against his car during one of his tantrums when he was fifteen (the cops had not been pleased that day). Otherwise, he kept it in excellent condition. It was his most prized possession.

He just wasn’t very good at hunting. Not only the killing of the animal, but the openness of it all sent a shiver down his spine. Anything could be out there. Who knew, maybe the disease had mutated so much it could affect animals now. He knew for a fact if he came face to face with a zombie wolf he was screwed.

The cheese would be enough to hold him and Gavin down until they could find an abandoned gas station, or maybe even a grocery store stocked with food. Heh. That’s the joke of the century.

All of his plans hereon counted on Gavin actually having some sort of vehicle. He wasn’t picky what kind it was, and he didn’t care how much protection there was. All he needed was to drive into the big city, find some raiders, and take everything from them. The chances of that were pretty low, too, but if he couldn’t find a gang’s base in the city, he was out of options. He couldn’t run forever. He needed a permanent base of operations. Or at least semi-permanent.

When the room felt warm enough and he’d collected some plates to cut the cheese on, he decided it was time to find Gavin and eat dinner. So without further ado, he began his trek upstairs.


	4. Reminders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for panic attacks, flashbacks, gore and character death.

Gavin couldn’t breathe and couldn’t see. His knees were tightly held up to his chest, and though his entire body was numb, he could tell he was crying. There was a lag in his memories. Nothing major, but the last thing he could remember before he passed out was blood. Blood was everywhere.

There was a hand on his face. It felt so warm in this coldness. There was a voice somewhere, and though his eyes were open, he couldn’t see anything in front of him. Everything was black, and it wasn’t just from the lack of lighting.

The hand moved, and he reached out to grip it. “Don’t g-go,” he managed to get out while his teeth gnashed together, his chest heaving as he tried to breathe. Everything hurt. His ribcage felt like it would explode if he sucked air into his lungs any harder, but he tried anyway.

His heart was racing, his muscles flexing, and another choked sob emitted from his lips.

“D-Dan,” he said, and the voice in the distance stopped.

Then: “Gavin?”

He blinked tears away, and though he was still heaving and puffing, his entire body locked down, he could see Michael’s face above him.

Not Dan then.

He tasted blood in his mouth. A heavy iron on the tip of his tongue. He’d bitten his lip so hard he split it. His face hurt from crying and a thirst made his tongue feel heavy and his throat feel dry.

“Wat-water.”

“’Kay, man. Can you get up?”

Gavin tried to shake his head but his body wracked again, and he was curling up into a ball, his mind on a frenzy.

It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s me. My fault.

“What’s your fault, Gav?”

He hadn’t realized he was saying the words.

“C’mon, man. Roll over. I gotta get you up so you can get some water.”

No. No, no, no. No no no no.

He gasped, rolling onto his back, finally able to feel his legs, and his sight was clear. Above him Michael waited, looking on with concern.

“Can you sit up?”

“Y-yes.”

Michael grabbed his hand, his other supporting his back. Everything was fuzzy, but that firm, warm hand.

When Gavin seemed sturdy enough, Michael let go. But he felt a tug on his fingers, the hold unbearably tight, and Gavin was looking up at him, eyes red with tears, face crusty and pale. His eyes were crazed, but sad at the same time. A solemn, uncontrollable sadness that made Michael’s throat tighten.

“K-keep holding m-my hand, pl-please.”

He did.

—

Gavin was sitting across from him, one hand wrapped around a glass of water, the other gripping a piece of cheese. His shoulders were still shaking, but they had cleaned him up a bit.

When he’d found him on the ground like that, he thought he was bit. But he was sobbing something, words inaudible and he looked to be in so much pain. The disease didn’t work like that. If you were bit, the toxins made you pass out and killed you, and then you were brought back. You writhed a bit, but there was no pain involved. There was no… flashbacks. At least, that’s what Michael assumed had happened. He didn’t want to ask, afraid he’d trigger something else.

Gavin had definitely been hallucinating, though. He’d called him something. A name. Dan? Who was Dan?

In any sense, he wouldn’t let Gavin travel alone for a while, and he certainly wouldn’t be going to the top floor anytime soon.

The scene was gruesome. It was a relatively new body, the scent of feces clinging the air, and the body had only just begun to purple. Michael wasn’t sure what caused such a reaction from Gavin. Maybe it was how morbid the scene was, a beheaded zombie somewhere in the corner, and the victim lying sprawled out of the bed in their own blood, a knife embedded in their head. Or maybe it was that the victim was just a little kid.

Gavin took in a shuddering breath, his fingers quaking as he set down his glass. He hadn’t touched his cheese yet. Michael watched him for the longest time, his eyes just blindly staring down at the hard metal counter, his jaw clenched tight. Finally, he reached a hand out, pulling back for a moment when Gavin flinched, then rested his hand against the palm of Gavin’s empty hand.

Now his eyes could obviously see, and were looking directly at him.

He expected him to say something so he didn’t.

Gavin licked his chapped lips and said hoarsely, “I’m sorry.”

Michael frowned. “For what? We’ve all seen some fucked up shit, I can’t blame you or anything.”

“I-I just thought that you’d be a—”

“Don’t you dare say angry.”

Gavin shut his mouth, then whispered, “…uncomfortable.”

Michael frowned, sighed, and reached into his bag. “You want something a bit stronger than that water?” A full bottle of whiskey, freshly stolen from a liquor store, was set in front of the Brit.

“T-that’d be top.”


	5. The Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I just wanted to add a thank you to all the people reading this. It makes me really happy to see all the people liking, reblogging and following me on Tumblr, and giving kudos, commenting, etc here.  
> This is also a reminder that I'm always taking requests so if you have something you want me to write for a fandom I'm in I'll try my hardest. It's nice to take a break from zombies for a while.

Turned out, Gavin actually could hotwire a car, which he had gladly displayed about three times now as they hit the road. They’d slept in the various cars for about a week, feeding off the rest of the cheese until they had to rob a convenience store. Thankfully, it had a backroom no one had touched, full of chips and soda and things Michael hadn’t had for months now. They spent a night there, a blissfully zombie-free night before they set off again for the city, the trunk packed full of flat Pepsi and stale crackers.

He hadn’t told Gavin about his plan yet. With the panic attack, he was afraid to. Whatever it was that had triggered it, Gavin hadn’t mentioned to him. He hadn’t asked either. Some things were private.

On the road again, they talked a lot. Usually about dumb things, stuff that didn’t matter anymore. Their favourite foods, their favourite video games. Chances were their old lives were complete history. Everyone was separated or missing from them and the only people they met wanted them dead, or were already dead themselves. The world had gone to shit, they both agreed.

After robbing a department store in another small town, feeling clean finally in their new clothes, they set off for the final mile to the closest city.

Michael decided it was time to reveal himself.

“Hey… Gav?”

“Hm?”

Michael looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Gavin was concentrating on the road. His steering had always been a bit jerky (“Not used to the backwards roads here yet!”) but whenever he drove he concentrated like nothing else. His hands were fisted against the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road in front of them. He usually had to swerve around corpses and cars on the road, but otherwise the highways were completely deserted.

“I have a confession.”

Gavin slowed the car down a bit so he could look over at him, but kept driving nonetheless.

“Okay, so I have this idea…”

“That’s a bit backwards,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

Gavin shrugged, looking back at the road to switch routes. “Usually I’m the one to come up with plans or hypothesis.”

Michael rolled his eyes, which he found he was doing quite often. “Yeah, whatever. Just shut up for a second, okay?”

Gavin nodded, and finally stopped the car.

“So ever since I met you I had this plan to… use you, I guess.”

Gavin didn’t look that surprised. “I know. And? Are you finally getting rid of me?”

Michael shook his head. “No, no. Not a plan like that. More a plan to… use you to my advantage. Build my numbers.”

A crease formed in his brow. “You’re not…”

“Yeah. I want control over the city. You’re the first member to Team Nice Dynamite.”

“A gang? Seriously? Do you want to die, Michael!?”

He let out a breath. “No, I don’t, but—”

“Then stop talking about making up a gang! It’s dangerous enough out here without worrying over territorial problems! We can’t afford this.”

“What are you talking about? We have nothing to lose!”

Crack!

Michael blinked, then the sting against his cheek started. He winced, turning his head back to look at Gavin, who look positively furious.

“I don’t want to lose you, okay?! You’re my best friend and the only person I’ve talked to since—” He stopped talking abruptly, gnawing at his bottom lip. He looked about ready to cry.

“Gav?”

“We’re not doing it. No chance in hell am I going to lose you. No one else needs to die, alright?”

“Gav…”

“I honestly don’t know what you thought you were doing. Create our own gang? What a load of cock!” His hands were fists, knuckles white and a vein throbbed in his temple.

Michael reached out to touch his arm but Gavin continued rambling.

“Team Nice Dynamite? Did you come up with that on the spot? I could come up with a better name while wan—”

“Who’s Dan?”

Gavin was silent, his face dark, eyes looking down at his hands, which had fallen into his lap.

“Gavin.”

“Don’t say that again. Please.” He took in a shuddering gasp, a hand over his mouth as his eyes went misty. “He’s… not a good memory. Not right now.”

Michael was completely still as he watched Gavin’s shoulders quake, a single tear make a path down his cheek. He wanted to wipe it away but instead decided to say, “I’m sorry. Are you gonna… you know…”

Gavin choked, looking back up to glance at Michael. “Am I… oh. You mean the… no. I can’t tell when it’s going to happen. It’s not often, but when it hits, it’s like what you saw.” He gripped the steering wheel. “I don’t know what it is. It happened after the outbreak, a couple months ago. I’ve had about seven attacks by now. Alone.” He sighed, wiping his face with his sleeve. “I’m such a plopper.”

“No! No, you’re not a… a plopper. Shit happens. You say you can’t control it, so no hard feelings. You’re Gavin either way. Whether you have panic attacks or not, you’re still Gavin.”

The Brit looked at him. “Do you consider me a friend?”

Michael hesitated. Gavin wasn’t smart, and sometimes he was reckless and dumb. He didn’t know shit about survival, which was shocking since he lasted so long on his own. His only perk was his hotwiring and those brilliant smiles he produced, the quizzical questions Michael thought were just retarded. Gavin was humanity. He was dumb, but the way he could lighten Michael’s day was something else. He never thought he would smile again, but he was smiling now.

“Yeah, man. You’re my best friend.”

Gavin grinned at him, then set his lips in a firm line. “I promise I’ll tell you. I promise. One day. I’ll tell you all about D—Dan. I’ll tell you all my secrets. For now, I just can’t think about it. Please. One day, I’ll tell you. But not now.”

Michael ruffled his hair, then sat back in his seat again. “Team Nice Dynamite?”

“As long as we’re not going on any suicide missions, then sure. Team Nice Dynamite.”

As Gavin started the car, Michael turned his head and started to ponder a new plan of action.


	6. City Life

When they finally reached the city, they had never expected the tall barricade surrounding the centre of the city, and certainly not the snipers. A bullet came whizzing past Michael’s ear and barely had enough time to duck and pull Gavin behind a building with him before another shot where he had been standing before. Cussing, he peeked around the corner, Gavin’s hand in his, and looked up at the top of the barricade, maybe a good few dozen metres above the ground. It was too tall to climb, but maybe if they could get on top of a building…

“We need to get higher,” he said, and Gavin looked at him startled.

“What? Higher? Why would we need to do that?!” Realization struck. “You still want to invade this gang’s region, don’t you? I thought we discussed this!”

Michael ran a hand through his hair. It was oily from a week of sleeping in the car, and he decided the first thing he wanted to do when he got inside was take a long, hot bath.

“Gav, please. It’ll be fine. We get inside, shoot them between the eyes and we’re golden. Team Nice Dynamite will be for real!”

Gavin shook his head. “No. I won’t do it.”

His eyes hardening, Michael reached to his holster and pulled out a hunting knife. Before Gavin could even suck in a breath, the blade was to his throat. He was backed up to the wall, the knife digging so far into his skin he couldn’t even swallow without a bead of blood dripping down his skin. A hand was on Michael’s wrist, trying to pull him away, but Michael was determined.

“We’re going in, okay? I just—I need to get in there. I need to see it. At least. Please, Gav.”

His eyes were pleading, and Gavin dropped his hand from his arm, his eyes gazing down to the ground. “Okay…”

He was pulled into a hug, his arms awkwardly bent at his sides, but he adjusted and let his hands rest on the small of Michael’s back. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Michael said, then pulled away. “No homo or anything, ‘kay?”

Gavin gave him a lopsided grin, his hands on his gun. “So what’s the plan, Chief?”

—

Finding a building tall enough they could get over the wall was easy. It was just a matter of luck that there weren’t guards posted up there as well. Looking over the edge of the roof, Michael could just barely see into the fortress, and from there he could see two snipers with the barrels of their guns peeping out from small holes in the barricade. They were still looking for them. Around the fortress, off in the distance, he could see more of them, all with the memo that they were in the city. If they didn’t get a first shot, they were done for.

“You a good shot with a snipe?” Michael asked, his hands fluttering over the reinforcement he had strapped to his back. The crazy shit you could find in storage lockers was spectacular.

“I haven’t shot one in a few months, but yeah. I’m guessing you’re not a good shot then?”

Michael shook his head. “Close range and melee are my specialties.”

“Heh. I’m the opposite.”

Michael watched him as he handed him the gun, clipping on a new magazine and setting it up. Gavin’s fingers were nimble, though they were unpracticed, hesitating as he looked down the scope at his target. Michael lifted his binoculars to look back at their targets. One was taking a drink from a canteen strapped around his neck while the other was busy scoping the ground for the very people with a gun literally pointed at his head.

Gavin pulled back from the scope to look at Michael, who looked back with big eyes. They were actually about to  _kill someone_. The weight fo this decision finally settled down on his shoulders, making his stomach tighten and he could feel the stale potato chips in his stomach slosh around uncomfortably. This wasn’t a zombie, and it wasn’t self defense. Sure, he had shot at them first, but this was different. He wasn’t expecting it.

“N-now?” He could tell just by looking at him that Gavin felt the same uneasiness.

“Fire at will.”

Before he could let another word be said, Gavin was back on the scope, his finger tightening on the trigger, and a bullet sailed through the air, and the first guard fell to the ground, body lank and obviously dead.

The second sniper stood up and looked away, but Michael and Gavin were positioned too high for him to spot. Even while he searched, a rifle collected in his hands, ready to shoot, he still couldn’t find the source of the murder.

Gavin pulled the trigger again and the man fell next to his partner.

Michael’s hand were shaking. No one else in the fortress had noticed their death yet, and Gavin crumpled to the ground, eyes big. He was shaking all over and Michael thought back to a week previous.

“Are you—”

“I”—He swallowed—“am fine.”

He looked up at Michael. His pupils were dilated, irises shaking. He was so pale, and looked close to tears.

“This is for me, Gav, okay? Please, you’re doing this for a good cause.” He collapsed to his knees next to the man, and collected him into his arms. His hands were in his hair. Gavin smelled like sweat and fear, and he could practically feel his skin buzzing.

“We need to get to another building.”

Gavin nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down the bile in his mouth.

“Okay, Michael. Whatever you say.”


	7. Mission Impossible

Sniping was easy, now all they had to do was get inside without anyone realizing that all their main guards were down. It was difficult, finding another building close enough to the fortress, but high enough they could get over. Now that the snipers were dead they could ransack a nearby hiking shop, stealing mountain climbing equipment for the trek over.

  
Gavin watched Michael nervously as he hooked up his line, clipping it to his harness and tugging to make sure it was secure. Guns, one the shotgun he had on his person at all times, were strapped to his back, crisscrossing over his shoulder blades. On his front, duel pistols were held in his holsters, and his knife was strapped to his thigh. Ammunition was carried across his chest, and they managed to find a pair of bulletproof vests in a gun shop. He looked ready for war.

  
The tingling was still evident in his fingers as Gavin let Michael harness him as well, tightening the rope just gently, muttering to himself about how Gavin was an idiot for getting it tangled. It took all of Gavin’s concentration not to succumb to the pressure building in his head, the ringing in his ears. Michael didn’t understand how hard it was for him. It was near impossible to fight back against his own body, his own mind. Memories floated in his head, fast as the images of a camera, quick as a bullet. Memories of blood, of the stench of rotting bodies and the dead eyes of his best mate. His breath caught in his throat.

  
His only distraction was Michael. How determined he was, how easily he prepared himself to face his inevitable death. The curl of his hair down his jaw, the brown of his eyes, the scent of musk that rolled off his skin when he was near. He was so grateful for Michael. He hadn’t a clue what he would do if it weren’t for him. Well, he certainly wouldn’t be doing something so reckless, that was for sure.

  
There were vents on the side of the building, heavy enough to support their weight when they crawled down the side of the barricade. The rope wasn’t long enough to make it all the way down, and Michael explained that they’d need to slide down the near-perpendicular edge most of the way to stop the fall. In the middle, they’d need to cut the rope and attach a new one, but that at that point they’d be at least seventy percent down.

  
Gavin was too busy trying to concentrate on calming his nerves, he didn’t recognize the sudden fear of heights that made his knees weak and fingers quake. His hands searched blindly for Michael, for he was too distracted with the enormity of the drop. His fingers dug into Michael’s sleeve and the man watched him for a second before gathering him back into his arms like he had grown accustomed to. It was calming, and Michael pulled back just barely to look him in the eyes.

  
“You’ll be fine, I swear. If anyone fucking touches you, I’ll shoot their head off.”

  
Gavin blinked a few times, his breath hitching just slightly, then grinned, feeling relief wash over his body once again. It wasn’t himself Gavin was worried about. He cared much more for the wellbeing of Michael, but the fact the lad was trying was enough to make his heart fall back to his chest and the wave of nausea pass.

  
“Alright. Let’s get on with it.”

  
\--

  
Feeling his body nearly completely suspended above the ground—Christ, this barricade must have been twenty stories!¬—his eyes stayed glued to the concrete in front of him. By his side, Michael was letting his hands run over his own rope, skillfully lowering himself, the supply suddenly seeming extremely low.

  
“You good?” he asked, looking over at Gavin, whose hands felt like they were on fire. He should’ve taken those gloves he found in the store. Maybe they would’ve reduced the rope burn.

  
Gavin nodded jerkily, for the feeling of being suspended so many metres above the ground was certainly not okay. But he couldn’t really go back now, could he? He didn’t have the upper body strength to pull himself back up the rope, so the only way to go now was down, down, down.

  
He swallowed. “How much more rope do I have? When do we have to cut it and switch it?”

  
Michael gripped the rope in front of him and swung his body partly to the side, inspecting the satchel around Gavin’s shoulders. There was enough rope for another two stories, then they’d need to use their backup and switch it out. Michael looked down at the ground. There were just a few more feet to go and then they could infiltrate the fortress completely. He was praying no one could see them hanging here, but all the streets seemed relatively deserted.

  
“We’re good for maybe... twenty to twenty-five feet?”

  
Gavin’s fingers curled into the rope, and suddenly everything crashed back down to him again. this was ridiculous!

  
He once again let his fingers slide down the rope, his body going so slow and uneasily down the height of the barricade. The rope in his satchel slipped out, and knowing he had so little left before he’d have to switch it out made his heart leap in his throat. Then, before he could even know it happened, he stopped moving. He checked his satchel, trying not to look down at the ground, and found there was none left. Michael was at his side immediately, having the same length of rope.

  
Michael reached into his pocket, grabbing a metal spike, and quickly went to work whacking it into place in the concrete wall. Soon enough it was stuck as well as it could be, and he took out his second rope, sticking it through the loop and tying it as best could. Gavin was left to watch, feeling his throat dry to be reminded that his entire body weight would be kept suspended on this tiny spike. His entire life relied on it. His fingernails were digging into his line, his feet against the wall, slightly pushing him out, before he swung back in. If he didn’t look down, it was almost like he was on a swingset, joyous and carefree. But in the back of his mind nagged that that was complete bullshit, trying to get him to remember he was in serious danger.

  
Michael let the new rope thread through the loop in his harness—Gavin obeyed when Michael told him to hold himself up on his rope—then through his own. “We only have one extra rope,” he explained. “We’ll have to use this, then we’ll have to slide down maybe... two feet. Bend your knees when we get down there, we’ll need to do it as slowly as possible. I’ll be right next to you the whole time, ‘kay?”

  
Gavin nodded, and tested the new rope, looping it around his waist, and looked back up at the new one. Michael was already working on sawing himself free from the old one, his hands gripping at the spike. He looked at his own old rope, and began hacking it free. He felt suspended in air all of a sudden, knocking against Michael’s hip. Michael cut himself free too and stayed hanging for a moment, then turned to Gavin.

  
“You’ll need to hold into me while I climb down. Just... grab me from the front. Like a hug, I guess.”

  
Gavin nodded, wrapping his leg around his thigh to help him get closer, draping one arm around his shoulder, gripping the back of his shirt, being mindful of the guns strapped to his back. With his other he clung to his side. Making sure his grip wouldn’t slip, he let his other leg reach up and wrap around him as well.

  
“That’s good. Just close your eyes and I’ll tell you when we need to cut the next rope.”

  
Gavin nodded against where his face was burrowed in his collar, letting his eyes slip shut. For a moment, everything was fine. He was in the darkness, feeling so warm with Michael’s body against his, the motion of his muscles a nice calming movement. He could barely tell he was so far away from the ground. He felt so safe when he was in Michael’s arms, perhaps even more safe than before all this apocalypse barmy, despite in how much danger he was in. So much could go wrong. He could be shot down, the cord could snap, come unraveled. He could die in so many ways, but as long as Michael, who smelled like barbeque sauce and BO, was holding him, none of that mattered.

  
Gavin’s heart began pumping for an entirely different reason.

  
They had stopped moving. Gavin could tell from the way Michael’s muscles quit working and he went slack, and he opened his eyes and pulled back to look at Michael’s face.

  
“Okay, we’re out of rope. I want you to hold my hand the second I cut this rope, okay?” Gavin separated himself, swinging tantalizingly close to the ground. “Get as close as you can to the wall. There’s no going back now.”

  
With his knife, he took out the rope in a single swing and Gavin extended his hand automatically to grab at Michael’s wrist as he felt himself fall. He couldn’t breathe for a moment out of shock, but then as he slid, a nervous laugh bubbled up into his throat. Finger laced together and they were gliding down the last few metres of the wall. This was madness.

  
Gavin bent his knees like Michael instructed him earlier, and when he came into contact with the ground, he slid to his knees, collapsing onto his stomach. Michael was on top of him, laughing at him as Gavin laughed at everything, and Gavin couldn’t have been happier.


	8. Found

“Where is everyone?” Michael asked, and felt Gavin slip his hand into his. He looked back for a moment to see Gavin absentmindedly glancing around, and rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t there be guards everywhere?”

The inside of the fortress looked pretty normal, with communal outhouses where there was room on the streets, and empty beds lined the walls in old department stores. Down the street, a bakery puffed smoke from its chimney, an old fashioned place that probably ran on wood-burning stoves. The heavenly scent of freshly baked bread flooded his head.

Michael gripped a pistol, cocking it as they approached. He tugged his hand free, and motioned for Gavin to prepare himself. Glancing in through the front window, no one was to be seen, and the bitter taste of burning pastries finally hit his senses.

“They left. Where—?” Gavin grabbed his shoulders roughly and pulled him into an alley. The loud sound of footsteps were heard, and as he peeked around the corner a group of soldiers passed by, clad in heavy combat boots and combat rifles. He swallowed, and flattened himself to the wall.

The soldiers passed, and Michael watched in awe.

Gavin pointed up to where the snipers were. Their bodies were gone, replaced with new snipes, who were looking over the enclosure. Looking for them.

“Shit,” he breathed.

“What’re we going to do, Michael?”

They knew they were there. They probably thought there were many of them. They probably thought they were a rivalling gang, so they took all their refugees into a base of some sort. They needed to get in there and they were golden. Shoot the fuck out of the civilians and there was nothing they could do. They’d take this fortress over.

“We need to find out where they took everyone.”

Gavin nodded, still looking at the snipers. “Shouldn’t we take them down, too?”

Michael glanced up, then took the gun from his back and handed it over. “Fire away.”

—

The streets were barren, like a scene left in time. A television was still flickering, the static blaring loudly. Over in the distance, shouting was heard, probably from the same soldiers they’d seen before. Looking up at the bunkers where the new snipers lay dead, Michael found they hadn’t discovered the new bodies yet. That was good. As long as no shots went off they could go about their business.

Thinking it over, it was a bit odd that a single gang could have grown so large. It was more like a colony, but he supposed even lowlifes would have to evolve into something more powerful. It seemed that the gang’s biggest worry had been zombies getting in. They hadn’t even suspected other gangs? Perhaps when the snipers saw them and shot at them they hadn’t imagined there would be any human foolish enough to try and get inside.

They were a bunch of idiots.

Footsteps clambered towards them, and before Michael had time to react, Gavin was once again pulling him into an alley, and they were very, very close. He could feel Gavin’s heartbeat through his chest, and the other man’s fingers were tangled in his hair. His head was ducked down, and he could feel his hot breath against his mouth.

“Whoa, you guys sure are into it, aren’t you?” Michael tried to pull away, the sinking feeling in his stomach overwhelming. Caught.

Gavin held onto him harder, tilting his head to look at the man at the opening of the alley, who was blatantly gawking at them, but soon grinned. Another soldier. He was younger than Michael would imagine him, with dark hair and thick-framed glasses over his brown eyes.

“Yeah,” Gavin said, his teeth gnashed together. Michael put a hand on his chest, hoping to calm him down. His heart was hammering against his ribcage, and he felt his nails dig into his skin.

“Well, you guys aren’t supposed to be out here.” He gave them a knowing look. “But YOLO, right?”

Michael gawked. He didn’t see anything wrong with this? Did they let their civilians just walk around with weapons?

“Definitely,” Gavin replied, finally pulling away, hands in his back pockets, looking as casual as possible.

“Haven’t seen you guys around? Are you from the new refugee group we brought in? You probably don’t know where your group’s bunker is then. I’ll escort you if you want. You can make out some more in the restroom.”

Gavin nodded, and grabbed Michael around his wrist, pulling him forwards. “That would be lovely.”


	9. Final Boss

“The name’s Ray, by the way,” the soldier said, turning around to smile at them.

“Michael,” he said shortly, “and that’s Gavin.”

Ray hummed, continuing on. The other soldiers had moved on, leaving him alone to lead them to the bunker where they were to wait all this out. Michael wasn’t sure what they’d do once they were there. Was there an identification process? Would it all be over just like that? The city suddenly seemed much, much larger when he knew what lied at the end of this journey. His grip on Gavin’s hand tightened, and the other man placed a hand on his shoulder. It was comforting, having someone he cared about not push him away.

“So, you guys are an item, huh?” Ray continued on, making pleasant conversation. Unlike the two of them, he wasn’t scared shitless of going to the bunker. Who knows, maybe in the end of all this he’d be rewarded for finding them. “That’s cool. It’s not often you see couples make it through. Or… were you guys together before all the zombies showed up?”

“We found each other after, actually.”

“That’s even rarer. Cool. I know this one couple. Our leader and his wife. So sugary sweet you wouldn’t even imagine. They have this daughter and she’s just—”

He stopped, looking up to where the snipers had been.

“Is that…?” He gripped his gun. “Oh my god…”

“What?”

“Those assholes shot our snipers! Fuck! They must have gotten inside by now.”

Ray looked startled. Gavin stepped forward to say something, but Ray lifted his hand to stop him. “I’ll take you to the bunker, but then I have to do some shit. Hopefully they don’t kill all of us before I can see you guys again.” He smiled wryly, still shaken. The walkie talkie against his chest buzzed and he picked it up.

“Yeah? This is Officer Narvaez. What’s the problem?”

The person said something on the other line, but it there was too much static for Michael to understand what they said.

“Pretty sure, yeah. I don’t really want to touch a dead body so you should send someone else.” He paused for the other person to speak. “Right now? I’m kinda in the middle of something.” Pause. “No, I’m not—” His eyebrows drew together. “Okay, sure. Whatever. On my way, boss.” He sighed and put his hand back down at his side.

“Who was that?”

“Our leader. The dude wants to see me. Hope you don’t mind me bringing you guys along?”

Michael’s eyes brightened. This was perfect. If he could kill their leader he was golden.

“I don’t mind at all.”

—

The leader’s post was in town hall; the flag was raised high, though it appeared tattered and washed out after being there for so long. Guards stood in front of the doors, guns propped against their shoulders. They only briefly looked over Ray before nodding and moving for him to get through. Their gazes towards Gavin and Michael were longer, more hesitant, but they let them pass through as Ray shot them a look.

Inside wasn’t too grand. A few people scurried around, looking slightly busy with papers in their hands and walkie talkies on the frits. No one really paid them any mind, letting Ray climb the main staircase to a large office room where a man sat with a bottle of rum behind a desk, looking pretty stressed out about the whole thing.

“Hey, Geoff, what’s up?”

The man looked up, tired eyes finally seeing him after he walked in. He frowned. “This bullshit with a new gang is kicking my ass. Everyone’s flipping shit. Griffon thinks we should relocate, get Millie out of—” He saw Gavin and Michael standing off to the side and gave them a confused look before his eyes narrowed. “I haven’t seen you assholes around here before.”

“They’re new. From the refugee group from Arkansas we just brought in.”

Geoff shook his head. “No. There was only one dude in that group. You’re not—”

The loud snap of Michael cocking his shotgun was heard and Geoff shut his mouth, looking down the barrel as Michael spoke.

“Put your hands in the fucking air, Team Nice Dynamite is taking this bitch over.”


	10. Tragedies

Geoff gulped visibly, his hand moving behind him to pick a knife from the surface of his desk. Michael prodded the gun to his collar, digging it into his skin. “Don’t even think about it. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Behind him, Gavin was holding a knife against Ray’s throat, who was looking wide-eyed at the scene before him.

“Put your weapons on the ground and kick them to the side of the room,” Michael said to Ray, who nodded shakily, doing as told. Four guns were on the ground in no time at all.

“How many are there?” Geoff asked when Michael turned to look back at him. “How many are in your gang?”

Michael opened and closed his mouth, trying to think whether or not he should lie. Would it be better to let him know it was just them, or to think they had a whole army surrounding the walls of the fortress? Gavin didn’t let him decide, however, saying, “Your security sucks. It was just us and we just walked on in.”

Michael sucked in a breath, his grip hardening on the gun.

“It’s just two cocksuckers who killed my best snipers? Are you fucking me?”

Michael nudged the shotgun even harder against his skin, making the man lean heavily against his desk. “You’re defenses fucking suck, asshole.” Without looking back, he said, “Gav, sit Ray in one of the chairs in the corner and point your gun at his temple. If he even opens his mouth, shoot him.”

“Okay…” He sounded hesitant, but the shuffling informed him he was doing as he was told.

“What do you want?” Geoff prodded, eyes narrowed.

“I want full control over this place, and all the information you have on the infection, and where the government has taken its refugees.”

“Refugees,” Gavin mirrored, then said, “You didn’t tell me anything about the government. Michael, what are you planning?”

Michael sucked in a breath. “Shut up, Gavin.”

“No. You want the location of the refugees, right?” He paused, then gasped. “You want to know if your family is there! You’ve been… you’ve been using me this whole time. You didn’t want to be Team Nice Dynamite, you just wanted to find your family! You just wanted to help yourself.”

“Gav, it’s not like th—” There was a crack and the sound of a gunshot, making Michael whirl around, ice water creeping up his spine. Gavin was on the ground, blood pooling around his body and Ray was above him, Gavin’s pistol in hand. Michael stared down the barrel, his whole body feeling numb. His own gun clattered to the ground, a shot ringing out, but he didn’t hear it. He was on his knees, in front of Gavin, who was staring up at the ceiling, his face scrunched up in pain. His leg was bleeding, the wound slicing through his jeans and his hand hanging limply at his side, the wrist obviously sprained or broken.

“Gavin, Gavin…” he whispered, hands on his face, his fingers shakily trying to keep him conscious. “Stay with me, buddy. Keep your eyes open. You’ll be fine.” His words flew from his mouth without his knowledge and he found himself not believing them for a minute. Gavin was dying. He’d bleed out and die and it would all be his fault. “Gav, please…”

Something touched the back of his head, the cool sting of metal digging into his scalp.

“Don’t kill him,” Michael pleaded, looking up at Ray, whose eyes were flickering with some sort of deep remorse, the shotgun in his hand frighteningly familiar. “Shoot me if you want, but don’t kill Gavin. Save him if you can. Please.”

Ray shook his head, looking over his shoulder to Geoff. “Boss…”

Geoff sighed, crossing his arms, and made his decision.

For Michael, everything went black.


	11. Welcome

Gavin shot up out of bed, grasping at his chest, frantically looking around the unfamiliar room. Something was off. A chill crept down his spine, and there was a burst of pain in his wrist and leg, but he ignored them, trying to stand up and hobble out of the door.

“Michael,” he breathed. His first priority was Michael, would always be Michael.

When he finally got on his feet, he crumpled back to the ground. His left leg was weak, couldn’t even hold up his weight. Holding himself up on the cot, he found himself fighting for breath. His eyes looked down at his thigh, and he bit his lip hard. Blood was seeping through bandages, spreading to his ripped jeans.

There was a hand on his shoulder, helping him get back on the bed, laying him down and a stranger stood above him. “Whoa, don’t push yourself. You should be getting some rest.” The man looked down at his leg, cussed under his breath, and said, “You opened the wound again. Don’t move.” The man went over to a counter, retrieving a bottle and some more gauze, then sat next to the bed, working on Gavin’s leg.

He wrapped a piece of torn fabric around his upper thigh, tightening it, and cleaned the wound. Gavin hissed as the rubbing alcohol touched his torn flesh, his fingers clinging the scratchy sheets below him.

“W-where’s Michael?” he said between his gritting teeth.

The medic was silent; he looked back up at him, frowning. He didn’t say anything, just let his mouth hang open for a moment without any words coming out.

A sudden thought struck Gavin. What if he was gone? What if the whole plan had gone so horribly wrong he ended up—He swallowed, his mouth like cotton. “Is he… dead?” he asked attentively.

The stranger shook his head. “No. But he might be soon.”

Gavin let out the breath he’d been holding. “What do you mean?”

“He was knocked out. He has a concussion. He should be fine in a couple days, but Geoff has plans for him. We’re not sure what to do with him. Or you, for that matter. The chances you’ll be given the death penalty for what you did… they’re pretty high.” His eyes were apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

Gavin’s vision went blurry. For a moment he feared he’d have another panic attack, but then he realized he was crying. Tears streaked down his cheeks, one hand reaching up to wipe them away. He didn’t want to cry in front of an enemy medic. He felt like such a failure. It was all his fault. Everything seemed to be his fault. His family, Team Nice Dynamite’s failure… Dan. Everyone he knew and loved was dying, or would soon be dead.

“Dammit,” he choked, and the medic put a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up, meeting his eyes again. “Hey, if you want, I can take you to see him. He’s in our jail right now, in the basement. I’m supposed to move you there anyway.”

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, nodding.

“Caleb, get in here, we need to him on the gurney. It’s about time we moved him downstairs.”

—

Michael’s head hurt. Badly. He peeled his eyes open, only to see darkness. For a moment he wondered if he’d gone blind, which would have been like ripping a band aid off a sore wound, but then a door opened behind him and light pooled into the room.

Blinking black dots from his vision, he sat up slightly, to see Geoff standing there with a tray of food in his hands. Michael swallowed thickly, looking around the room for his English friend, only to realize he wasn’t there.

“Where’s Gavin?” he asked with a dry mouth. His throat was sore. He took the glass of water from the tray as Geoff put it on the end table next to Michael’s hard cot. He shook off the burn in his throat, looking up at Geoff, who was watching him thoughtfully.

“He’s not dead, if that’s what you think. He’s in the infirmary. He’ll be fine. The bullet was removed, he’s been put in cast, and he just needs to rest a bit before he’s good as new.” Michael nodded, relief washing over him.

“Thank you,” his voice was still gravelly, and he thought for a moment he might cry out of sheer joy, but then remembered where he was and who he was with. “Are you going to kill us?”

Geoff watched another moment, gritting his teeth, then said, “No. I don’t think so. Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to join.”

Michael opened and closed his mouth, eyebrows drawn together. “What? Your gang? I don’t think I’ll be much help to your cause or whatever.”

Geoff snorted. “We’re more like a colony then a gang, I’d say. This is an old abandoned fortress the government made right after the outbreak. There’s tons of ‘em across the States. We don’t like to go to war against other groups. We’re pretty much self sufficient. It’s like we have our very own little country.”

Michael drew his knees to his torso. His chest felt very tight at the moment. They’d made a huge mistake. “I’m so sorry.” Trying to ignore the way his sight blurred around the edges, he whispered, “I wasn’t thinking about you. I was thinking of myself.” He buried his face into his kneecaps. “God, he must fucking hate me.”

Geoff sat there next to him, saying, “I don’t think so. I’d say he loves you a shit-ton. You almost sacrificed yourself for him. So I think you at least love him. Even a little bit. I think it’s pretty hard for someone to get themselves killed in favour of someone who hates their guts.”

Michael looked up just to see Gavin being wheeled in on a gurney, his eyes big and glistening. It looked like he’d been crying earlier. His shirt was stained with blood, but his pants seemed to have been changed since he’d been shot, one leg rolled up to reveal a leg covered in bandages. His wrist was covered in a cast, but otherwise he seemed to be his usual messy-haired, big-grinned idiot self.

“Oh my God,” Michael breathed, and he ignored his dizziness to run at his friend, his arms around his shoulders. Gavin was grinning into his collar, his own good hand reaching up to grip the back of his shirt. “I didn’t mean it I wasn’t thinking I shouldn’t have done it I’m so so so sorry oh my God Gavin—”

“Shut up, ya pleb,” Gavin laughed, pulling away to smile up at him. “I’m fine. A little worse for wear, but I’ll live.”

“You two should get some rest. C’mon, Ryan, we should go talk to Jack about this new weird series of events.” Geoff bumped his shoulder against the medic’s, then turned around. “Go to sleep, guys. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Just as he was about the shut the door, Michael shouted, “Wait, Geoff! I’ll join.”

Geoff looked at him, a lopsided grin on his lip. “Welcome to Austin, cocksuckers. And more importantly, welcome to the Achievement Hunters.”


	12. Night Terrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to last chapter, so the next update will be the last. I just wanted to say I’ve had a blast writing this and it’s such a huge compliment that you guys are reading, giving kudos, commenting, etc. I’m so happy to have started this story and to have such an awesome audience. Thank you!  
> Also, the sarcasm in the beginning of this chapter is overwhelming. But i don’t write sarcasm very often so-

“No, it’s stupid and risky and they’re dangerous, Geoff.” Jack found this whole thing rather unsettling. For their leader to just welcome in two cold blooded killers into the colony—even invite them to be part of the Achievement Hunters—was just so fucking insane he couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around it. Usually Geoff was somewhat easy to read, for Jack at least. He wasn’t exactly all that complicated. He’d do what was best for his family, even the Achievement Hunters, which he considered his extended family. But this was insane.

“You didn’t see them. They’re harmless. They weren’t thinking, Jack.” He wrung his hands together. Of the entire colony, Jack was second in command. Of course, every decision had to get through him first, before Geoff could actually go through with it—y’know, since Geoff was under the influence about three hundred percent of the time and wasn’t really the best judge of character.

“Yeah? Well, their ‘not thinking’ cost us thirteen men today. They’re inside now. Can you even begin to contemplate the damage they could do if they have our trust? Not to mention being in the higher ups. I can’t believe you offered them positions as Achievement Hunters.” He shook his head, a hand running through his hair. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Got ‘im,” Ray called from the other side of the room, making Jack’s scowl deepen.

Geoff scowled. “Hey, not cool. Who’s the captain of this team? Do I hear a ‘Geoff’? Ding! Ding! Ding! Correct. I’m the boss, asshole, and I deserve respect, especially from someone who’s had chocolate pudding stuck in his beard for the past ten minutes and didn’t notice.”

Jack ducked his head, rubbing at his face with his sleeve, then glared at him. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Man, I couldn’t stop looking at it. There’s still some there, dude.”

“Not the pudding, Geoff!” he yelled, feeling that typical semi-smile cross his lips. “You’re doing it again.”

Geoff shrugged, rolling his sleeves up to the elbow, his tattoos standing out on his arms. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. These guys can’t stay here. They’re threats and they’re crazy, I swear.”

“And I swear the opposite. Oh no, two elites with opposite points of view. Whatever shall we do? Obviously the captain wins, since he has more power. Okay, next topic. Griffon had this fucking spectacular idea of how we could filter the water more effectively, I think we should call her up here soon, it’s a really good plan—”

“I say we put it up for vote,” Ryan chimed in, looking up from the cards he was trying to stack to form a house. “Democracy kicks ass, right?”

Jack nodded. “That’s the most fair. Ray?”

“I’m all for them staying here. It’d be cool to have some members my own age on this team, y’know? It wouldn’t be a huge gangbang of old, saggy ballsacks. We’d get some new, perky sets.”

“Fuck off, Ray.”

“Alright. Ryan?”

Ryan shrugged. “Let ‘em stay. Gavin’s not that bad. He’s kind of chatty, and a bit reckless, but he’s not evil or anything.”

Geoff gave Jack a look, a smarmy grin settling on his face. “Well, it seems the inevitable outcome has greeted us at the door. We just had to knock.” Geoff sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Get sucking, boys. I’ll be here all day.”

“Fuck you.”

—

Michael was awoken by the sound of screaming. He shot straight up, hyperly aware of the hard cot beneath him, of the chill that caressed his tired body. He shivered, wrapping the blanket tightly around his shoulders, struggling to stand upright in pitch blackness.

“Gav?” he called, searching with his hands to try and find the opposite wall Gavin slept against. “Is it happening again?”

A sob bubbled up in his friend’s throat somewhere in the dark, but it was thankfully enough for Michael to locate him. When his toe nudged the frame of the other cot he’d moved Gavin onto before he turned off all the lights and fallen asleep, he carefully lowered himself onto the bed as well. His hands reached out to the form beneath the thin wool blanket.

Gavin’s entire body was quivering, the skin against his jaw stretched tightly to form against the bone. His teeth gnashed together, his lips opening and closing as he struggled to say something. The only sounds that rose from his mouth were strangled syllables, like the bile against his tongue and constricting throat made him incapable to produce words. Michael wondered if he was even awake, or if he was living some sort of nightmare. Was this even the same as last time?

“D-Dan,” he finally managed to make out, feeling his brow furrow. He still hadn’t a clue who that was, or what had happened to him.

His knees were trying to pull themselves up to his chest so he was in the fetal position, but Michael held them down. If Gavin moved too much he’d reopen his injury, and Michael wasn’t entirely sure what would happen then. There was no way to immediately call a medic. Between them in this room it was just the clothes on their backs, and the shitty, scratchy blankets.

“Are you awake?” Michael asked, even though he knew he’d get no response.

Gavin was gasping. Michael checked his pulse, pulling his hand away when it was fluttering like a bird’s. He bit his lip worriedly, sinking down so he was stretched out beside Gavin, his side pressed against him.

“I’m really worried about you, y’know. I’m never sure if you’re gonna be triggered. I think you’re so strong, though. Fuck, you went through all of this even before me. Whatever made you this way, I’m sorry. It should never have happened.” He swallowed, rolling over to drape his arm over Gavin’s shaking shoulders.

“I’ve never… been close to someone the way I’ve been close to you. I trust you with my life.” He paused. “Well, most of the time. You’re a bit trigger happy. No pun intended.”

He leaned over so he was inches from Gavin’s face, his hot breath against his cheek, nose occasionally brushing his. Gavin was snivelling still, though much to his surprise, he managed to mutter, “Michael…” before he curled his head down so his chin was against his chest.

Michael sighed, his fingers in Gavin’s hair. It was oily. He hoped they’d let them bathe tomorrow. Gavin needed to clean his wound or else he could face infection (he was sure the medic who’d come in earlier had already known that, so it wasn’t that big of a deal). He really didn’t want him to die from something like that.

Michael blinked. He’d said so before, that he cared for the guy, but now the realization finally settled in. He cared for someone. It had been so long since he wasn’t entirely apathetic towards others. Having someone around was a responsibility that changed him. For once he actually gave a damn. He wasn’t sure when he started caring, but he did.

It was more than that. It wasn’t just the fact it was another person. What changed him was Gavin himself. Michael couldn’t imagine himself letting someone shoot him in favour of Geoff living, or Ray. They were just as alive and human as Gavin was, but there was certainly something different about him. Gavin was special. He laughed under his breath at the thought. Gavin certainly was special, in more ways than one.

Something touched his jaw. Gavin’s fingertips, he discovered. They were creeping up his face, occasionally digging into his skin, leaving half moons imprinted from Gavin’s fingernails. Finally his hand was wrapped in the auburn curls that rested against Michael’s temple.

Gavin let out a laboured sigh, and fell back into a peaceful sleep. Just like that. Michael gawked, his lips parting slightly, the he grinned, whispering into Gavin’s hair, “I hope I’m as good for you as you are for me. I hope… I hope I’m helping you. I don’t want you to be afraid anymore.”


	13. The Conclusion

Today was the day, Gavin thought, rubbing his palms together, feeling the back of his neck begin to persperate. Everything was so clammy as he ascended the stairs to Michael’s bedroom, one located down the west corridor of the city hall. It was a renovated office, like all the other bedrooms of the Achievement Hunters, which was a very specially designed group of individuals—actually, scratch that, it was pretty damn random. Geoff just seemed to pick a handful of people and let them live in city hall, which was honestly the nicest place to live, so Gavin didn’t mind being a member.

He let out a slow breath, not bothering to knock on Michael’s door, instead letting himself in to see Michael hunched over a map, his face in his hands. His face was scrunched up, like he wasn’t entirely certain what was on the map, and Gavin took a moment just to watch him. 

He cleared his throat, making Michael jump and stare at him, before he smiled and patted the seat on his bed next to him. “Hey, Gav. What’s up?”

“I’m ready to tell you. About Dan.”

His bespectacled friend blinked at him, then nodded solemnly, twisting his body so Gavin knew he had his full attention. “Yeah, okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Dan was my best mate. Even before the outbreak. We did everything together. We were going to graduate from uni together, we were going to buy a house together and make movies and—” He swallowed, shaking his head. “It was my idea, to come to America. There would be more opportunities, better ways to make movies. We could have a future here.

“When the outbreak came around, we were both terrified. What could we do? The government missed us in their huge plan to take everyone into isolation. We were just two mates all alone with a shitty gun and a car with half a tank of gas. We started in Washington, where we first lived, then we drove til we couldn’t in Oregon. That’s how I learned to hotwire cars, ‘cause we needed another one. We made it to Missouri when… when he was bit.

“It was awful. It was his face, his eyes, but everything about him was just so hostile and lifeless. He was young still, so he was slow. I had to watch him stumble towards me, his mouth dripping with blood and saliva. He wanted to kill me. Kill me and eat me. It was Dan’s body, but he was possessed by something sinister. He was my best mate, but… but he wanted me dead.

He swallowed a shuddering breath, shaking his head. “I met you a couple months after I shot him and killed him. You were the first person I’d seen since, other than the odd man driven crazed. But you were sane. You were sane and you were… you were Michael. You were Michael, with your short temper and your ambitious ideas. You’re so brilliant, you know that right?”

Michael nodded, wanting to hold the other man, to stop his shoulders from shaking so much.

“I was so scared, that first night, the first time you saw it happen. I thought you’d hate me. I couldn’t have that happen to me, Michael. You were the first person I’d met you made me feel so alive again. You made me feel like I wasn’t just a single half, dead without his other. Because, once Dan was my other half, but he’s gone now. I think I finally understand. Dan’s gone and he isn’t coming back. But his memory’s still here, and now you’re here. You’ve become my other half.” Gavin’s eyes nearly twinkled as he looked at his friend.

“Oh my God, Gav,” Michael said, and he was kissing him hard, fingers tangled in his hair, teeth clattering and a moan emitting from his throat, making his cheeks burn red. To his surprise, since he thought he’d be pushed away, Gavin’s arms linked behind his shoulders, pulling him even closer.

Their hands flew across their faces, down to their shoulders, running over chests, before they tugged at shirts, simply needing something to weave their fingers into. They pulled away gasping, and Gavin’s eyes were brighter than they’d ever been, glowing with an intimacy Michael had only ever dreamed of seeing.

“You’re a fucking idiot, but I like you anyway.”

Gavin could only laugh.

—

Looking over the fortress, the wind through his hair and gun firmly held in his hand, Gavin couldn’t help but feel a warm, fluttery feeling in his chest. This was Austin, the home he’d never imagined having. This was Austin, where he’d been shot and had his arm broken by one of his current best friends. This was where his story hadn’t really began, for that belonged to Oxfordshire, but this was where he wouldn’t mind it to end. 

Down below, Michael was instructing soldiers on where to put the dynamite to collapse the buildings that stood along the rim of the fortress. He’d been given the job of senior architectural director, a pretty good job for the guy who’d aided Gavin Free, the best long distance shot their colony had ever known, to shoot down the older thirteen snipers who’d once stood guard over in the bunkers that now lay deserted, the only thing remaining a single sniper rifle in memorial.

His first decision as architectural director was they blow up the buildings that stood right outside the fortress. A security hazard, he had spouted, and Geoff had agreed.

“If a couple of cocksuckers like you could get into our base that easily, who’s stopping an entire rival gang? We’d be dead as dicks!”

Off in the distance, Gavin could barely make out a pair of old, frayed rope that hung from the rim of the wall, swaying slightly in the breeze. He smiled a bit in memory of their adventure. Everything always seemed so hectic for the two, it was nice to finally have a place to permanently reside, where it would feel somewhat peaceful.

A dark thought played in the back of his mind. His mental health was still a bit screwed up. PTSD, as Ryan had diagnosed, was difficult to overcome, but not uncommon, especially with the whole outbreak thing. He probably would never completely stop showing symptoms. He’d always have to live with the occasional panic attack, or flashback, or nightmare, or period of insomnia. It was a bit daunting, to know that this was a curse he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how much Michael tried to help. All he could do was try to relax, use distractions. It was all up to him, really. Though Michael posed as an excellent distraction. 

He couldn’t always control his body, but he could control his fate, and that was all that really mattered. He could live his life and he could be himself. He didn’t have to be afraid anymore, because there was nothing to be afraid of. All this time, he’d been frightened of his memories, of things that happened and couldn’t be reversed. Finding this acceptance, it was a feeling that made his entire being feel fresh and renewed. 

Gavin Free was not his past, and he was not what had happened to his best friend. Gavin Free was his future, and he was fine just like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end. Thank you so much for reading and I certainly hope the conclusion was satisfactory enough. 
> 
> Anyway, bye, and if you have any other questions, feel free to ask!


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